


An Unlikely Hero

by Morvith



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Captivity, Divorce, Domestic Violence, Escape, Fear, Fear of Discovery, Gen, Miscarriage, Nausea, Nobody vomits but the narrator often feels she's about to, POV First Person, Past Character Death, Rescue, translations in the end notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27846138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morvith/pseuds/Morvith
Summary: Merrick built them the perfect prison: six single cells, restraints, cameras, Keane's hand-picked guards, only one way in... A veritable fortress and with Nile and Quynh captured and Copley dead, there's no one out there to storm it. There's no help coming. From the outside.Fortresses always fall to treachery.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache & Booker | Sebastien & Nile Freeman & Joe | Yusuf & Nicky | Nicolò & Quynh
Comments: 16
Kudos: 67





	An Unlikely Hero

It has to be tonight. Steve is too close, much too close but it has to be tonight. I, I can't wait much longer, he already knows something's wrong, if he finds out that I know, he, he... I don't know what he'll do, that's what terrifies me the most. If they'll find me hanging from a noose like James Copley, or he'll have Keane throw me from the roof and say I jumped, everyone would believe it...

No, not everyone. Mom and Dad wouldn't. Sophy wouldn't. But what could they do? How could they prove it?

I must get them out tonight. It's our only chance and it's too late to back out anyway, the program is already running.

Thank God for Steve's love of technology. If his guards weren't all upstairs staring at the fake camera feed, I would have never made it this far.

It's too late to back out now. I must hurry. There are six cells in front of me, little more than armoured closets – _how the fuck could he_... No. Not now. Breathe. Focus. Later.

My hands are shaking. It takes me ages to punch in the code, one number at a time, carefully, carefully. If I do it wrong, the alarm will ring.

First cell on the right. I hope I chose well. He looked kind, from what I've seen. They all did.

The door slides open. He's here, tied to a stretcher – I knew he would be, they all are, yet seeing it is different, oh God, I can't be sick now... I drop the holdall in the doorway, blocking the sensors, and step inside.

He doesn't move. Maybe he is asleep. Maybe he's dead, are they even feeding them? Not that it would matter, being dead, I mean. Maybe he has gone mad, not that I'd blame him, or any of them, and what I'll do then I don't know but they didn't _look_ mad the last time they got them out...

“Are you Joe?”

He opens his eyes and looks up at me, startled.

“Are you Joe?” I ask again.

He frowns. “You don't look like a doctor. Or a guard.”

Probably not mad. Okay. “I'm not. I... if I free your right hand, will you promise not to hurt me? Please?”

He stares at me in silence. I can feel the seconds thick by and I'm about to give in and do it anyway and face the consequences when he nods. He nods. I am still scared, but a little less so.

His face when he sees me get to work, when his hand is truly free is just... I'll see it in my nightmares until the day I die, I know I will. No human being ought to look like that.

“Why are you here?” He asks as he frees his left hand.

I move down the stretcher to get his ankles. “I want to help. I know who you are, what you used to do before... before you were caught. I can get you out. You and the others. I think. I hope.”

He tries to stand, but his legs buckle. Instinctively, I reach out to steady him and he flinches.

“Sorry. Do you need water? I've got some protein bars in the bag, too.” He leans his hands against the stretcher and I step away. “I've got you clothes, too. For all of you. They should fit you, they didn't exactly have your size on record but with all the measurements they took, it was easy enough.” Shit, I'm babbling. “There's trainers, too. Primo Levi said shoes are vital.” I pull the paper bag marked with a J from the holdall and hand it over along with a protein bar and a bottle of water. “I wasn't sure what to do for the ladies so I got them all sports bra. I hope it's okay. I may have gone overboard with the neutral colours thing.” It's all black and grey. Even the underwear. “I should have gone with tracksuits, you could have been a late night jogging club or something. I probably made you look like a gang, or a bunch of fascists.”

“What's your name?” Joe asks, handing back the empty bag and pushing the bar wrapper and the half full bottle in one of the (black) cargo trousers pockets.

Shit, I hadn't thought about the wrappers. Worst rescue ever.

I push the bag to the bottom. “Anna. My name is Anna.” If he notices I'm leaving out my surname, he doesn't say.

“Nicky?”

How does one pack so much desperation, so much longing in just two syllables?

“Last door on the left.” As far from each other as Steve could possibly put them while keeping them on the same floor. I knew he could be petty, sometimes, but _this._..

I punch in the code, slowly, and I wouldn't blame Joe for sighing or standing over me, or anything, but... He doesn't. He stands still as a statue until the door starts opening and then slips through sideways. The man inside – Nicky – is smiling, but his eyes are unbearably sad.

“Yusuf. Sei sempre la mia allucinazione preferita.”

“Non sono un'allucinazione e nemmeno un sogno, amore mio,” Joe says as he starts undoing his restraints. His hands must brush against him because I see Nicky suddenly go still, his gaze laser-focused on Joe. “Ce ne andiamo.”

The moment Nicky is free, he sits up and grabs Joe, pulls him closer – a drowning man grasping his only lifeline. I look away, digging through the holdall for the bag with his clothes. God knows they've had more than enough people staring at them like bugs under a microscope.

When I look up again, Joe is holding the half full bottle to Nicky's lips, helping him drink, whispering to him in Italian.

I got exactly one word out of what they said before – amore, love. I look down at my hand, at the outline of my wedding ring under my disposable gloves. I don't know if I want to cry or laugh, if I want to punch Steve, or yell at him or if I never want to see his face again...

I loved him. I loved him so much, how could he, how the fuck could he...

Joe calls my name – gently, as though he could tell what I was thinking. I toss him Nicky's bag, he tosses back the empty bottle and I stuff it into the holdall.

Later. Focus. Breathe.

“Who do I get next?” I ask.

“Andy,” Nicky says, pulling on a t-shirt. “Go help her with Andy.”

Joe visibly tenses, hesitates. “Nicolò...”

Nicky grabs him by the back of his neck and kisses him. “I'll be right behind you, hayati. Niente e nessuno potrà mai più separarci.”

Whatever he said, Joe smiles at him and nods, then turns towards me. “Where's Andromache?”

“The cell across yours.”

Andromache – I can't bring myself to call her Andy, not even in my own mind, I'm absolutely certain she'd know – stares at me suspiciously, but Joe's presence seems a good enough guarantee, for now.

I move to the cell next to hers – Quynh, and Nicky takes the bag from my hands and steps in, speaking in a language I don't recognize at all.

I drag the holdall across the hall and put in the last two codes – Sébastien Le Livre, then Corporal Nile Freeman. Nicky appears beside me when I punch in the last number for Le Livre's cell. He puts Quynh's and Andromache's empty bags back in the holdall and takes Le Livre's. “Thank you, Anna.” 

“You're welcome.” I reply automatically. I wasn't actually expecting thanks, not while we're still inside.

“Can you get Nile?”

I hear an explosion of incomprehensible words somewhere behind me. I nod and move to the next cell. Corporal Nile Freeman, the latest, youngest immortal. She's the other person I considered freeing first, only Joe's cell was closer.

When her door slides open, she's already staring at me. “Who are you?”

I glance over my shoulder – Quynh and Andromache are wrapped in a hug so tight I can't tell which is which, Joe is coming towards us.

“Anna.” I glance at my watch and step in, my hands raised. “I'm going to free your hands. Please don't hurt me.”

I only manage one before Joe reaches us and I trade places with him. I do my best not to listen to their whispering while I grab the last bag of clothes, plus water and protein bar.

Corporal Freeman's eyes follow every single move I make, studying me like she's trying to figure me out and coming up blank. It's rather like being stared at by a falcon.

A bit more whispering, then Joe hands me the wrapper and empty bottle while Corporal Freeman starts getting dressed.

“Did Copley send you?” she asks.

“Copley is dead.”

Her glare gets even more suspicious. “Then how did you know about us?”

“Through his research.” It's not a lie, Steve did keep all his research – in case he ever needed extra proof, I suppose. God. Who the Hell did I marry?

  
Any other question she wants to ask is interrupted by angry French words next door – a new voice I assume it's Le Livre, Joe and Andromache in the main.

Nile and I leave her cell and Nicky must see us out of the corner of his eye, because he suddenly speaks up. “Hey! Non davanti alla signora!”

Signora. I know this one. I think he just called me a lady. I don't have the heart to tell him I already know most of the words they used. Not that I was listening, but... they weren't quiet.

Le Livre shuffles out. I glance at my watch as we head down the hall – I can't believe it has only been 15 minutes. It felt so much longer.

“We must find the stairs.” Andromache says.

“There aren't any,” I say. “There's only the lift.”

They stop abruptly, and I bump into Corporal Freeman. “Sorry!”

“That's okay,” she replies, just as automatic as my reply to Nicky.

They're staring at the lift as though it was a gigantic bear trap. Which, fair. It's not like I particularly enjoyed being in there on the journey down, either.

“How come security hasn't called it back up?” Corporal Freeman asks, frowning.

“They don't know anything's wrong. I – well, not I, exactly, I paid someone else to get into the system and loop yesterday night's footage.” I say.

“That doesn't mean they haven't noticed.” Andromache grumbles. “We haven't got any weapons, if...”

“Er...” They all turn to look at me. It's unsettling. “I've got two swords and an axe. I believe they are yours?” I open the holdall again and point to the three weapons wrapped in beach towels. “Sorry, I couldn't find the scabbards anywhere. I managed to get half a dozen of penknives, too.”

They stare at me as though I had just performed a minor miracle before descending on the holdall.

“You're a marvel, Anna.” Joe says, grinning.

“He kept them? Of course he kept them, he's just the type...” Andromache mutters as she unwraps the axe and inspects it carefully. 

“Where were they?” Nicky wonders out loud. 

I shiver. “Don't ask. You really don't want to know.”

He had them on his wall, like trophies. Not in his office, oh, no, in his sitting room, in our home! He had me living above... I force myself to breathe in deeply through the nose. I suddenly don't regret the absolute tantrum I had to throw so he'd let me put them in storage. 

Quynh looks down at knife in her hand with a disgusted expression, flicking it open and closed. “Ridiculous. But I guess it will do.”

Once all the penknives have been distributed, we step into the lift. There's a slight jostling for position.

“I go first.”

“No, you don't! I have just found you, I won't lose you again!”

“Listen to Quynh, boss.”

“Andy, je t'en supplie, I can't see you hurt again...”

“You're not immortal anymore, I go first.”

“I'll throw you over my shoulder, Andromache, don't think I won't!”

“Really? Do we want to have discussion _now_?”

“Excuse me, I believe _I_ go first.” I say as I finish punching in the security code and the lift doors close. They're all staring at me again, I can tell.

“You want to pretend you're our hostage.” I nod, even if Andromache wasn't asking.

Joe clears is throat. “Anna, you have already done so much for us, we cannot risk your life in good conscience.”

“We're more at risk if I'm not the first they see when the doors open.” If they notice my gloves, we're screwed anyway, but I can't take them off, not yet.

“Keane won't hesitate,” Nicky says. “And neither will his men.”

“Keane is not on duty tonight, I checked. As for the rest, if they see me, they won't shoot.” I take a deep breath. “They won't dare. You see, I'm their boss' wife.”

Aaand talk about awkward silences. I start fidgeting with my left glove, but stop almost right away. Somebody growls behind me.

“You're married to _Merrick_?!” Corporal Freeman found her voice.

“Three years last June.” I keep picturing him talking to Copley and then taking me out to dinner. Hiring Keane, setting up the facility in Sudan and texting me good morning, planning the week-end in Prague. He was having his grandmother's ring polished and the cells built at the same time. Deep breaths again, Anna. Deep breaths. Whatever happens, I can't be sick.

Somebody pats my shoulder. “I'm so sorry, signora.”

“Not as sorry as he will be when my lawyers are through with him.” I don't really mean it, it's not like I need the money. On paper, it should be a quick, easy thing, what with... our current circumstances.

Steve will be furious, though. He'll see it as a slight, a failure and he'll want to make me pay, I know he will. After what I've seen tonight, I'm even more worried about the battle ahead. I'm exhausted just thinking about it.

The lift is slowing down.

“Well, let's make it believable,” Quynh says as she grabs me and holds the open knife to my throat. “Try and look scared.”

Strangely enough, I feel like laughing. Hysterically, but laughing all the same. “Not a problem.”

Out of the corner of my eye, Andromache raises her axe, ready to spring into action. Joe and Nicky ready their swords, I can't see Le Livre and Corporal Freeman but I hear the click of their penknives.

The doors open. There's nobody waiting for us, the lab is empty. Quynh holds me still as Joe, Nicky and Andromache move out, checking down the hall.

Perhaps they exchange some signal I completely miss, perhaps they don't need it at all – either way, after a few seconds, we move out, too.

“Don't take the stairs, the cameras still work there. Go for the other lift.”

There's some grumbling and swearing, but they listen.

“Is that why you are helping us?” Corporal Freeman asks. “Because you're divorcing Merrick?”

“The opposite, actually.” She looks confused. “I'm divorcing him because I found out about you.”

“Just like that?” She sounds astonished.

“It's... a bit more complicated than that.” I fidget with the holdall strap across my chest. “There have always been rumors about him and Dr. Kozak. Steve always told me it was strictly professional, but they always acted strangely, like they shared a secret, and all her reports were classified and never went anywhere but her department kept getting funds...”

I don't want to tell them what comes next, it's none of their business, I don't want to think about it. Him. Her. I wish I could have known for sure.

I guess I must, though. They won't understand if I don't and I want them to. If I don't make it out, if I do and Steve kills me anyway, somebody should know the whole story.

  
“Eight months ago I had a miscarriage.” The worst day of my life and now I have to be glad that it happened, that my baby died. I'll never forgive him for this. “He wasn't...he was...” As useful as a cheese teapot, Sophy said, put it on the fire and all you get is a mess. I think she stole it from a novel. I clear my throat. “Well, afterwards, he spent a lot of time with Kozak.” I don't know what they were talking about and I really, really don't want to. What they planned to do to me, to my next baby... “Maybe it was paranoia, maybe it was hormones, but... that's when I started wondering. So I started looking into it and...”

“And you found us instead.”

The second worst day of my life.

I nod. “I told myself when I started looking that I would not tolerate an affair, that I'd walk. This is infinitely worse than an affair.” The lift doors open and I step inside. “If I was willing to walk for less, how could I stay?”

“That doesn't mean you have to help us.” Quynh grumbles.

“Yes, it does.”

Would it have been easier? Probably. But I couldn't do it, I couldn't, not after reading Copley's research.

As far I know, their paths never crossed any of my ancestors'. There are no stories of mysterious helpers passed down in my family. They didn't take a bullet for my great-grandfather or pull my infant grandmother from a burning building – or perhaps they did, only it was an arrow instead of a bullet, perhaps it was so long ago not even the most dedicated genealogist could track it down.

And who knows? Perhaps they actually killed my ancestors. Perhaps they met on opposite sides of a war, perhaps they caught them stealing or raping or who knows what else.

The point is, it doesn't matter. Not one bit.

I couldn't just... pretend not to know. I should know, I tried. But I couldn't. So here I am, more terrified than I've ever been in my entire life.

Down again to the garage. I lead them to the back, to the new lot of company vans. To the last one on the left – it looks identical to the others, except this one isn't ours. Technically, it's mine, though it would take a very good forensic accountant to find out.

I pull the keys out of my pocket and unlock it. Andromache immediately extends her hand and I hand them over over the others' half-hearted protests.

“There's another set of keys in the glovebox. I wrote the code for the side gate on the keychain,” I say as I hand Joe the holdall. “Take it, there's still water and protein bars in there. Also, there's an envelope with 638,000 pounds in the side pocket. Sorry, it's all I could get. There's a box with some jewels, too. Nothing obstentatious, it shouldn't attract too much attention if you pawn it or sell it.”

“Are we stealing your wedding presents?” Quynh asks, grinning.

I shake my head. “Sadly, I expect Steven will want those back. I bought them myself, with my own money, he doesn't know they exist and never will. I was tempted to add my engagement ring, but that was his grandmother's, he'll kill me if I don't give it back.”

They exchange glances, then Nicky leans forward. “Will you be safe here?” he asks. “You can come with us. We can protect you.”

I shake my head again. “Thanks, but I'll be fine.” I look down at my watch again. “I have another hour before the program runs out. I'll be gone by then.”

Andromache leans out of the window. “Does Merrick know about the divorce? Have you told him?”

I shake my head. “Not yet. I'm having my lawyers send him the papers.” He won't like it, not one bit, but I can't face him, I can't, I can't...

“Don't.”

“What?”

“Don't tell him yet. Can you wait? Can you say you just need time, something like that?”

I frown. “Yes, I could, but why...” I hits me suddenly. “Oh. I'm going to be a widow, right?”

“Not if he doesn't come after us.”

We both know he will. I wonder how many times they've done this before, got rid of somebody's husband?

My first instinct is to beg them not to do it. If I were a better wife, a better person, I'd follow it.

If I were a better wife, a better person, I'd talk to Steve – warn him, beg him to let them go, to forget about them, but... I know him. This is company business and my input is neither welcome nor wanted.

Besides, I'd have to explain how I know and... and that ends either in a noose or a long fall from the roof.

  
Perhaps I'm being too harsh. Steve and I have had our share of fights, we have screamed and shouted at each other, but he never laid a hand on me.

Yet there's this vice around my stomach, this calm, absolute certainty inside my head – because I know Steve and I know his flaws, too. Or I thought I knew them.

“I'll see what I can do.” God, I'm so tired... but I can't crash, not yet. Sophy is waiting for me, she'll worry if I don't show up. Besides, Steve will be back in a couple of hours and I don't want to be here when he arrives. “You'd better go now.”

Andromache nods. “We won't forget.”

“Thank you, Anna.” Joe says, echoed by the others.

I wrap my arms around myself. “It's nothing. Drive safe.”

The doors close. Andromache rolls her window up and starts the van. I stand here and watch them drive away. I keep expecting something will go wrong: security will burst in, or the gate won't work, or Steve will suddenly be here, but nothing happens.

I wait until the gate swings shut again, but even now I can't relax, not completely. I still need need to get out.

It won't take me long: I just need to go back to the penthouse, stop the program controlling the cameras outside the vault and grab my bags. I've got everything I need. Fifteen minutes, maybe less, then I'll be driving to Sophy's and shouting along the angriest rock songs I have in my playlist because if I start screaming like I actually want to, I'll never stop.

Maybe I will scream when I get to her. Maybe I'll cry, or maybe I'll be too tired to do anything but crash in bed. It doesn't matter.

They're out, they're gone and it all feels like a dream, or a nightmare. Now it's my turn.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Primo Levi:** Italian Jewish chemist, partisan, Holocaust survivor and writer, author of _If This Is A Man_ , also known as _Survival in Aushwitz_. He does talk about the difficulty of getting on without shoes in his memoirs, though I can't remember if it was in _If this is a man_ or _The Truce_
> 
>  **Yusuf. Sei sempre la mia allucinazione preferita:** Yusuf. You're always my favorite hallucination 
> 
> **Non sono un'allucinazione e nemmeno un sogno, amore mio:** I'm neither a hallucination nor a dream, my love.
> 
>  **Ce ne andiamo:** we are leaving
> 
>  **Hayati:** my life
> 
>  **Niente e nessuno potrà mai più separarci:** nothing and no one will ever part us again. 
> 
> **Non davanti alla signora:** not in front of the lady 
> 
> **je t'en supplie :** I beg you (hoping Google translate didn't steer me wrong. Please tell me if it did) 
> 
> This story was born because I always wondered how Copley walked out of Merrick's skyscraper alive - I mean, presumably he took some precautions, but what if it wasn't enough? Also, I couldn't possibly leave the Old Guard trapped forever and I wanted to see a regular human helping them even without the Heel-Face Turn part. Even while knowing exactly what their abilities are. 
> 
> So, I hope you liked it.


End file.
